Two Friends One Spring Night In Beautiful Firenze
by Phoenike
Summary: Young Ezio wants to celebrate with his best friend. Leonardo, for reasons, isn't sure it's such a good idea... A little companion piece to a longer Leo/Ezio story called "The Leonardo Effect" which I'm publishing over at AO3. If you want to read it, search for archiveofourown and phoenike.


_Beta'd by lovely Elenilote. As always, remaining errors are my own._

**Repubblica Fiorentina 1478**

It was a cold and foggy spring evening, but Ezio Auditore was in great spirits. After two years of watchful abstinence, he'd had a drink. Well, five or six of them in fact. A brand new red and gold cape weighed his left shoulder, of finer make and heavier weave than the half-cloaks he was used to wearing. Oh, the marvel of being able to actually walk down the heavily guarded streets... priceless! Not that taking to the roofs would have been wise anyway, right now. Ezio hiccuped, and waved his fingers at a particularly furious looking guard. He'd forgotten how wonderful it felt to be happily drunk. Or to have people recognize him and not try to run him through with a spear.

Just one thing was lacking from his world right now. It was unseemly to be in such a blissful state without his best friend. Ezio rounded a corner and strode down a street, then took a right and found the house he was looking for. Light from behind the shutters told that the resident was in. Ezio pounded on the door. "Leonardo! Leonardo, open — _sono io!"_

After a moment he heard the latch turn and then the door was pushed open. The _artista_ himself stood there with a candle in his hand. His dark gold hair was tousled and a stained linen robe covered his home clothes. Smears of paint dotted his fingers and face and even his short, neat beard.

Despite his increasing fame, Ser da Vinci still had no assistant to answer his door. For years he'd been unable to afford one. Now that people were willing to work for him free if necessary, he had trouble deciding which one of the applicants to pick.

"Leonardo! _Mio fratello!_" Ezio fell around Leonardo's neck. "Let's celebrate!"

"What — how — Ezio! Have you been drinking?" Leonardo closed the door, trying not to lose his balance as his friend clung to him, happily intoxicated. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"Who cares tonight? _Guardi!_" Ezio stepped toward the center of the room, flourished his bold colored cape and spun to display it, teetering just a bit on his feet. "Isn't it wonderful?"

"_Madonna_. That's the Medici arms! Ezio, what — how?"

Ezio pushed back his hood, returned to his friend and shook him by the shoulders, grinning like a madman. "Have you not heard? Francesco de' Pazzi is no more, _amico!_ The _lurido codardo_ is dead, his father driven out of the republic in shame! Lorenzo stands secured in power again! He cannot officially pardon me or reinstate my house, but he's yielded me his support and colors!"

Leonardo stared at Ezio for a second in disbelief. Then a wide smile stole upon his face, and he pulled the nineteen-year-old Auditore in a tight embrace. "_Ottima notizia, caro fratello! Ottima notizia!_"

For a moment they just slapped each other on the back and laughed. When Ezio withdrew to breathe, he had tears of happiness in his eyes. Truly, he loved Leonardo too much for words. This man had made everything possible. There was none other he would rather have shared the night with.

"Come! You must change clothes and join me. We will go to a bordello and celebrate like kings!"

Leonardo's bright smile faltered. "Uh..."

Ezio grinned. "Don't worry about the cost. Il Magnifico gave me so many gold florins I don't know what to do with them. Come, come!"

Leonardo shook his head and raised a paint-stained hand, and stepped back. "Oh, no — no. I have work to do. A commission I must finish. I could end up in prison if I don't, you know. Or at least in a dark alley with big and ugly bravos with long wooden bats for company. But you should go."

"Leonardo!" Ezio raised his hands. "You work too much already!"

But the man was retreating toward a lintel among other unfinished paintings, sculptures and models. "No, no, no —"

"I know this wonderful girl, she's just the right for you. Come on, think about it. Tits like two soft rabbits and ass like a cake, but with a sweet tight center. _Madonna Mia!_" Ezio's hands suggested a very auspicious female shape in the air. "She has a decent head on her shoulders, too. I know you're a kinky bastard and like to talk."

"Thank you, Ezio, but no." Leonardo was now practically hiding behind the big canvas.

"But... _amico!_ I worry for you! You're always scooped up here in this dusty place with your contraptions and... whatnots. You're a man, you need to —" Ezio took a firm grip and squeezed himself through his clothes. "You can get sick if you don't! Everybody knows that!"

In the ample candlelight arranged to illuminate the spot where he was standing, Leonardo took a look at Ezio's hand, then opened his mouth but, unbelievably, failed to speak. His gaze seemed unable to leave the spot. "I — ah — err —"

Knowing very well that his friend was shy, Ezio stepped closer and pleaded with his whole body. "Think of it, Leonardo — a woman's soft body in your arms — beautiful and willing and good-smelling — it is the best feeling in the world! How can you say no?!"

Leonardo's blue eyes swept toward the ceiling as if in prayer. Then he turned away. "Quite easily, in fact." He pretended to arrange some brushes and cups filled with painting preparations. It was proof of his uncharacteristic agitation that his hand shook and pushed a jar by accident over the edge of the table. It fell and spilled its contents on the floor. "_Merda per merda..!_"

"Can't you see, it's affecting you already! Your humors will get all messed up and you'll wither away and die!"

Leonardo groaned and tightened his hands to fists at his sides. "Ezio, for God's sake, the act of human reproduction is more interesting to me in theory than in practice!"

"More interesting in theory than —" Ezio straightened, slack-jawed. He frowned and looked around as his grappa-marinated brain labored to process the words. "What the _maledetta_ does that mean?!"

"Isn't that obvious? I'm not interested in... such... things. Please, you should go to this b-bordello of yours. I'm sorry I cannot come." Leonardo gestured in frustration.

"But I promised the girls I'd bring you. They all want to see you, Leonardo!"

"Well, you shouldn't have promised any such thing. Ezio, I'm very happy for you, but let us not speak of this again."

"But —"

Ezio watched his friend's tense shoulders. What was the matter? It was simply impossible for a healthy man of twenty-six not to be interested in a night surrounded by soft bosoms and legs and giggles and female smells.

Then it suddenly dawned on him. Leonardo had _never_ spoken of a woman with desire. He did find them beautiful, but in an artistic manner, the same way he admired well-proportioned horses. How could Ezio not have noticed it before?

"_Dio mio_." He raised a hand on his hip and ran the other over his hair. "I — uh — I just realized — are you a —"

Leonardo froze.

Ezio covered his eyes with his hand, and winced. He felt like the greatest oaf in the world, and the most inconsiderate. _Maledetta idiota!_

How could he have known? Leonardo never spoke of these things. And for a good reason, it seemed. Ridicule and shame were the least that a man had to face, cursed with such a defect.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he cried and went over to his friend, and raised a hand to his shoulder. Leonardo shuddered at the contact. When he turned his face to Ezio's, his blue eyes were filled with abject terror.

"Leonardo, it's all right! I didn't know. You should have told me!"

"I should have?" Leonardo blinked.

"Of course! Oh God, all those times I've teased you about — can you ever forgive me? You're so charming and good looking, I thought for sure you've had countless women fall at your feet —"

"You — you think I'm good looking?"

"Pfft. Don't give me that. I know how much time you spend time in front of your mirror when you go out!" Ezio gave Leonardo a manly smack on the shoulder. "Well, just so you know, I'm not going to hold it against you."

Leonardo swallowed. "You won't?"

"Of course not. It'll be our secret. Some men are just born that way, eh? I don't think you're the only one by far, burdened by _incapacità di agire!_"

"Oh, certainly not — what?" Leonardo closed and opened his eyes. His freckled face, which had by degrees started to look almost comically relieved, pulled into an odd, surprised frown. "_Incapacità... di...?_"

"Not all men can be as virile as others. Everyone has problems sometimes. Well, not me of course, I would do it four times a day if I could, but I understand. Don't worry." Ezio puffed his chest and slapped it. "I have enough _palle_ for both of us, _fratello!_ Come, I don't think the girls will mind, they mostly just want to ogle at your fair hair and pretty face, anyhow. Now, now, comb your locks, put on your tightest doublet and silliest hat, and let us hit the town! I'm famished!"

"_Dio mio_." Leonardo rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger.

Ezio laughed and strutted about the room to a mirror, and admired his new cloak (and everything else, too, for after all there was much about him to admire). "We shall be as drunk as dukes! I think I shall have two girls since you don't want any."

Leonardo sighed, and shook his head. "Oh, my. This will end poorly."

"On the contrary, this will be a night to remember!"

And to some people's great surprise, that turned out to be the exact truth. They got absolutely smashed in a very fine bordello. Leonardo formulated two new theories, the crazier of which involved the God's creation being built of dust motes so tiny that the human eye couldn't see. After the _mezzanotte _toll, he spent the rest of the night conversing only in mathematical equations and scientific nomenclature. Ezio made love with not two, but three lovely courtesans. Come dawn, they woke up puking in the same bed in their shirts and breeches. All in all, a great time was had by everyone — except perhaps Francesco de' Pazzi, who was after all strung by his neck from the front battlements of Palazzo della Signoria.

And that was how things were supposed to be, for two very good young friends in beautiful Firenze.


End file.
